


Out Cold

by LovelyZelda



Category: Darkwing Duck (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-15
Updated: 2011-12-15
Packaged: 2017-10-27 09:02:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/294031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovelyZelda/pseuds/LovelyZelda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gosalyn's too sick to go to school, but crime never takes a sick day.</p><p>A treat for Pauraque</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out Cold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pauraque](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pauraque/gifts).



"Gosalyn!"

Gosalyn squinted at her bedroom door. For once she'd managed to sleep through Dad yelling from the bottom of the stairs, waiting, shouting again, and muttering to himself as he walked up the stairs. Her throat hurt, and her head kind of did too. Maybe if she ignored him, he'd stop pounding on the door, and just let her go back to sleep (yeah, right).

"You're still _in bed_?"

"I don't feel good," said Gosalyn.

"Oh, no, have we come down with another case of a history test?" Dad asked. "Don't tell me it's unfinished book report-itis!" He sighed. "Not one of your better performances... Come on, Gos, you could throw in a few fake coughs. At least a sneeze?" He held his hand against her forehead. "Oh."

"I _told_ you. Can I--" He was already gone. Dad didn't really have a setting between sarcastic and super-worried--Gosalyn wasn't surprised when he came back with the thermometer, the first aid kit, and a dictionary sized book that was probably _The Hypochondriac's Guide to Sick Daughters_.

"What're your symptoms?" Dad asked, then told her to stay still or she'd mess up the thermometer somehow.

"My throat hurts," Gosalyn said when she was allowed to talk again. "I'm tired."

Dad was already frantically flipping pages. "Dizziness?"

"No."

"Shortness of breath?"

"No."

"Congestion?"

"Huh?"

"An accumulation of--"

"What?"

"In the words of my charming, eloquent daughter, 'snot.'"

"Oh. Yeah."

"Obviously your school doesn't believe in vocabulary building," Dad muttered. She could still hear him turning pages. "Aha! Clearly a conniving and calamitous case of the common cold! Fear not, Gosalyn! We'll knock out this villainous virus!"

"So I don't have to go to school?" Gosalyn asked.

"You don't have to do anything except rest, drink plenty of fluids, and...did I say rest?" Dad opened the book again. "What page was it? There's always a third thing..."

He brought up the TV from the kitchen and actually gave her a bell to ring if she wanted anything--just like in books and on TV, except it wasn't fair that she felt too lousy to enjoy being waited on. And there was nothing good on TV during the day anyway, and it was too hard to pay attention.

Some breaking news announcement woke her up or at least made her more alert. She still couldn't really tell what was going on, but she heard "Fearsome Five" and started fumbling for the bell.

If he knew, he should already be gone--that was what superheroes were supposed to do. But it wasn't like they had a Darkwing signal or a special hotline (both of which they totally needed), so Gosalyn rang the heck out of that stupid bell. And she sort of knew that even if he had found out about it, he still wouldn't have left.

Dad wasn't even in costume when he rushed into her room. "More orange juice? Another pillow? Fewer blankets?"

"Dad--"

"More blankets? You're not getting a chill, are you? I knew I should've--"

" _Dad!_ The Fearsome Five."

Even before he looked at the TV, Gosalyn could tell he'd already known about it. She wanted to stand up and yell at him that the city of St. Canard was more important than one snot-beaked kid (even though, you know, that snot-beaked kid would probably be kind of sad about it and maybe new rollerblades would make it up to her?) She wanted to shake him and ask if he'd paid any attention when they'd rented _The Wrath of Khat_ and there'd been that whole "needs of everybody are more important than something something" thing (and not enough awesome space battles), but that was just way too much effort, so she said, "You have to. I'm too sick to destroy the house."

"It has absolutely nothing to do with the house," said Dad. "Although I'm sure you could still do some damage."

They both turned to the TV at the sound of an explosion followed by evil laughter--basically Dad's evil laughter. Sort of. But it was probably how Dad would sound if he were a pure evil homicidal maniac bent on world destruction.

"You said if I rang the bell you'd do whatever I wanted," said Gosalyn.

"You're sure?" Dad asked.

"Duh!"

Dad kissed her forehead. "I'll be back before you know it."

Which was a total lie. At least if she'd been in school she would've had to pay attention. Or she might not even have known the Fearsome Five were on another stupid rampage.  
And even if she had known, at school she'd have to pretend she didn't care that much. Gosalyn was a founding member of the Darkwing Duck fan club, and she'd totally cream anybody who called Darkwing a crook or a loser, but everybody'd think it was weird if she was really worried about some superhero. Dad hadn't told her how important it was to keep his identity secret, but Gosalyn had read enough comic books to know that it was (Sometimes she thought Dad needed to read more comic books because he didn't always seem to get the "carefully protected secret identity" thing). Plus, she already knew how much it sucked to have the bad guys come after you because of who your family was. Even though she probably wouldn't have met her dad if some jerk hadn't wanted her dead.

She couldn't sleep, she didn't want to watch the news, and she didn't want to think about stuff. It was probably lunchtime or at least close enough.

Just going downstairs made her feel exhausted. Microwaving soup was more difficult than she remembered. Dad had been right--she'd still managed to trash the kitchen. Gosalyn ate the soup that'd managed to stay in the bowl and hoped she'd be able to tell him that. Well, maybe not that he was right. Maybe it'd be better to just avoid the entire topic of how the noodles had gotten on the ceiling (like it was her fault they had a cheap microwave?).

It wasn't that she wanted him right there. Eventually he'd just drive both of them crazy. He'd probably be happier if he could just shrink down and actually go beat up germs. Knowing her dad, he'd probably already thought of where he could get a shrink ray and a germ-blasting submarine.

It was that kind of thinking that made Honker say her dad was weird, but Honker's family was so normal it was like a totally new kind of ultra-weird. Honker's parents were nice, but his mom was nice in that way Gosalyn recognized as secretly disapproving. After Grandpa died, plenty of people were "concerned for her welfare" and "just trying to help," but what they really wanted to do was get her to be somebody else.

Gosalyn still missed her grandpa. She'd confessed this, feeling at least two kinds of guilty, but Dad had just said that of course she did.

"Is that okay?" Gosalyn had asked. "I mean, I wish he hadn't died, but..." She hadn't known how to finish that without sounding awful and unfair to somebody.

"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me," Dad had said. "So, if that's okay...everything else is probably okay too."

And most of the time everything was better than okay. But it really sucked to be stuck at home, feeling lousy, while your dad had to deal with five super villains at once. She could probably have figured out a way to get over there, but this time she probably would've just been in the way.

"And just what are you doing out of bed, young lady?"

"I was hungry," said Gosalyn. She left out the rest of it.

"Is that why it's raining noodles?" Dad picked one off his hat--which looked slightly chewed and very wet.

"What happened to your cape?" Gosalyn asked.

"A crimefighter's cape is not only an excellent fashion accessory, but also a very effective way to stop a chainsaw," said Dad.

"And you knew that before--"

"I don't think that really matters." He grimaced as another noodle landed on his beak.

Gosalyn waited for the lecture. Dad looked at the ceiling, at the microwave, and at the dishwasher (Gosalyn couldn't even remember how that had happened). "Oh, Launchpad! There's a special assignment for my favorite sidekick in the kitchen!" Dad called.

"He's your only sidekick," said Gosalyn. "Since you hid my costume."

"I didn't hide your costume," said Dad. He looked like he really meant it. Maybe she did need to clean her room more often. "Are you feeling better?"

"Kind of," said Gosalyn.

"What's the--yikes," Launchpad looked around the kitchen. "Did a bomb go off in here?"

"Kind of," said Dad.

She followed Dad into the living room. "Did they throw you in the bay again?"

"No, they did not throw me in the bay. And that was a necessary part of my strategy." Dad's eyes narrowed as he half-collapsed on the couch. "Among his many crimes, the Liquidator refuses to obey the law of conservation of mass."

Gosalyn sat next to him. "You won, right?"

"Of course I won!" said Dad. "Even a multitude of malevolent miscreants is no match for the masked mallard!" He sounded tired. For one thing, he didn't pose heroically on the couch or even list a whole bunch of other things that the mighty mallard might manage. "Any more questions? Do you need to know if I tripped over anything?"

"No." Gosalyn remembered that he usually slept while she was at school. She leaned against him, and Dad put his arm around her.

"You should be in bed," Dad said.

"I've been in bed all day," Gosalyn said.

" _All_ day?"

"I'm sorry about the--"

"It's okay, Gos."

She wondered if he felt bad about leaving even though, duh, great power comes with...something. It probably didn't matter since Dad didn't have any superpowers. "Aren't you going to tell me what happened?"

"As night fell on the besieged city of St. Canard--"

"Dad, it's not even 2 in the afternoon yet."

"Who's telling this story?"

"You are. But it's still the afternoon."

"As the middle of the day fell on the besieged city of St. Canard, its one hope crept through the...complete lack of noontime shadow..."

Dad's stories used a lot of exaggeration and even more of whatever Dad thought would sound good--especially if it made Dad sound good. Gosalyn pointed out the most obvious ones, but that was just because she was his daughter. If anybody ever asked, she'd still admit that Dad's version was usually a whole lot more interesting than what had really happened. Today she especially didn't want to hear how Dad had almost been beaten up or killed, so she liked that in his version Darkwing Duck would beat the bad guys without breaking a sweat.

Gosalyn tried to stay awake and couldn't. She dozed off while the terrible tyrant of toys was facing yet another daring defeat by _Darkwing Duck!_ , and they were both asleep by the time Launchpad finishing saving the kitchen. 


End file.
